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Samuel Daniel - Sonnet XIII: Behold What HapSamuel Daniel - Sonnet XIII: Behold What Hap
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Behold what hap Pygmalion had to frame And carve his proper grief upon a stone; My heavy fortune is much like the same: I work on flint, and that`s the cause I moan. For hapless, lo, ev`n with mine own desires, I figur`d on the table of my heart The fairest form, the world`s eye admires, And so did perish by my proper art. And still I toil, to change the marble breast Of her, whose sweetest grace I do adore, Yet cannot find her breath unto my rest: Hard is her heart, and woe is me, therefore. O happy he that joy`d his stone and art, Unhappy I to love a stony heart.
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